d just that fast. None of 'em had time to light
a beam. Nobody before ever even _dreamed_ of such control!"

"That's great, and I like it ... and you're only a captain. How many
ships can Five-Jet Admiral Gordon put into space?"

"That depends on what you call ships. Superdreadnoughts, _Perseus_
class, six. First-line battleships, twenty-nine. Second-line, smaller
and some pretty old, seventy-three. Counting everything armed that will
hold air, something over two hundred."

"I thought it was something like that. How would you like to be Five-Jet
Admiral Sawtelle of the Ardrian Navy?"

"I wouldn't. I'm Terran Navy. But you knew that and you know me.
So--what's on your mind?"

* * * * *

Hilton told him. _I ought to put this on a tape_, he thought to himself,
_and broadcast it every hour on the hour_.

"They took the old Masters like dynamiting fish in a barrel," he
concluded, "and I'm damned afraid they're going to lick us unless we
take a lot of big, fast steps. But the hell of it is that I can't tell
you anything--not one single thing--about any part of it. There's simply
no way at all of getting through to you without making you over into the
same kind of a thing I am."

"Is that bad?" Sawtelle was used to making important decisions fast.
"Let's get at it."

"Huh? Skipper, do you realize just what that means? If you think they'll
let you resign, forget it. They'll crucify you--brand you as a traitor
and God only knows what else."

"Right. How about you and your people?"

"Well, as civilians, it won't be as bad...."

"The hell it won't. Every man and woman that stays here will be posted
forever as the blackest traitors old Terra ever disgraced herself by
spawning."

"You've got a point there, at that. We'll all have to bring our
relatives--the ones we think much of, at least--out here with us."

"Definitely. Now see what you can do about getting me run through your
mill."

By exerting his authority, Hilton got Sawtelle put through the
"Preservatory" in the second batch processed. Then, linking minds with
the captain, he flashed their joint attention to the Hall of Records.
Into the right room; into the right chest; along miles and miles of
braided wire carrying some of the profoundest military secrets of the
ancient Masters.

Then:

"Now you know a little of it," Hilton said. "Maybe a thousandth of what
we'll have to have before we can take the Stretts as they will